


Living Life in the Morally Grey Area

by LQY (santheweird)



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Blood Drinking, Clerics, Consensual, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Eventual Romance, Feels, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot, Sex Pollen, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vampires, check chapter 8 notes for more info on that tag, check chapter 9 for more info on that tag, i'll update the tags as the story progresses, if you're here for quick and dirty porn you're not gonna get it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santheweird/pseuds/LQY
Summary: "You would think that someone like me would know better after wandering the world for decades past my lifetime.""And yet, here we are."The story of a vampire and a cleric, of secrets and magic, and of snark and sexual tension.(Updates may be irregular. But I will update so chill if I suddenly go missing for a few weeks. Or years. You don't actually need to know anything about DnD to understand this. Also this fic is more of a stress reliever for me so this ain't high quality. Also not actually about DnD, just more of utilizing the content and the characters created out of it.)
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. tfw when you meet bae when you're dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing about this fic is: I had two original characters, one is from a DnD campaign, another one is from a discord RP server. And I thought to myself, 'hey, they have pretty similar aesthetics, so why don't I PUT THEM TOGETHER IN A FIC.' 
> 
> And this is how this bullshit was formed. Cursing galore and Dumbass galore. Have fun I guess.
> 
> Beta'd but not edited. I don't have the strength for full scale editing anymore.

Death, to most, is inevitable.

That is a universally unspoken truth. Regardless of whether you are mortal or immortal, one will always experience death one way or another in their lifetime. Many accept this as fact, while the rest don’t. Those who foolishly are unable to accept the truth as it is then proceed to find many other convoluted ways to achieve immortality.

So they turn to vampires with hunger in their eyes and silver chains in their hands. Vampires are regarded to be the ‘easiest’ ways for a human to turn into an immortal. One bite from a willing vamp, and you’re good to go! Oh, and don’t forget that you have to feed from someone at least once a month. And you can’t go sunbathing with your friends or you’ll die. Mirrors don’t work on you anymore too so have fun walking around not knowing that you have a piece of something stuck in between your teeth. And say bye-bye to your beloved garlic because you’re deathly allergic now.

Basically, becoming a vampire means gaining one or two good qualities (yay immortality and super speed/strength/whatever) and gaining a shitload of bad shit. And that is even if you can find a vampire who is willing (and experienced enough) to inject you with a buttload of venom, literally _die_ because that is essentially how it works, and manage to get reborn again. There's a reason why there are fewer vamps in the world than you think, okay.

But does that stop the boo-hoo-I’m-so-scared-of-death-that-I’ll-piss-my-pants-if-I-see-a-hooded-figure-with-a-scythe sorcerers? No.

What those delusional idiots do is that they see vampirism as a raw material that they need to take and purify and shape into some sort of elixr for their own warped needs.

Which is how Zephan got into this fucked up situation.

Those assholes kidnapped a weakened vampire, gave him a splash of holy water to weaken him even further, and if that wasn't enough, confined him in a cell with _silver_ chains.

The cell they kept him in had a tiny window so it didn't let in much light, but _somehow_ they managed to fix him in a place where that tiny ray of feeble sunlight managed to hit him right on his torso, burning him everyday after he healed every night.

The blood they fed him wasn't even good, and it was _animal blood_ for heaven's sake! For a group which claimed to know the ins and outs of vampiric immortality, they sure don't fucking know that animal blood only soothes the Thirst, and it damn well doesn't quench it. He's gonna fucking die long before they figure out their Elixer of Virgin Youth or What-fucking-Ever.

Oh, and they come in once a while to harvest things from him, like his blood and hair and nails and venom. All in all, A+ place, 10/10 would recommend.

Five days in this shithole of a cell and Zephan is already starting to feel his knife-thin control begin to slip on his Thirst. His skin is already healing much slower than before, and his senses are becoming more keen, tracing out the various blood scents of the sorcerers mingling about in the area. His glamour is long gone, showing off his pointed fangs and pitch-black eyes. If someone comes in and feeds him another bottle of rat's blood, he swears that he's gonna-

A new blood scent enters his range of smell and Zephan lets out an animalistic growl at the prospect of a new potential target. Gods, his control's gone to shit. The silver chains burned a fresh wave of pain where as he strained at his bonds.

Far away, right at the edge of his hearing, came the sound of fighting. This caught Zephan's attention. Whoever carried that new blood scent was definitely not part of the group of sorcerers, and was definitely not very fond of the immortality research they were doing. But right now Zephan did not fucking care. Right now, he just wanted something to quench the burning Thirst at the back of his throat. He tugged at his chains again, wanting to just sink his teeth into someone's neck and _d_ _rink._

The fighting stopped, and Zephan growled again at the scent of fresh blood spilled on the ground. So fucking close, if he could _just_ break out of these damned chains…

Footsteps belonging to the newcomer (male) sounded down the corridor, stopping every now and then to check on the other (empty) cells. Zephan just wanted to get even closer to that wonderful, delightful pulse and take in that enticing scent and the faint electric tinge of magic that accompanied it.

The cell door swung open and the candlelight from the corridor cast a shadow over the silhouette standing in the doorway, and the injured vampire bared his fangs in a facsimile of a smile. This newcomer felt like someone different, someone powerful and full of thrumming, delicious energy.

The hooded figure made an inquisitive sound and cast a ball of light into the air. The vampire hissed and cringed away from the bright light. The hooded figure stepped forward and reached out for the trapped vampire.

“What have they done to you?” The voice was calm and velvet-like, and it smoothed down some of the rough edges of Zephan’s control. He growled at the stranger’s outstretched hand, and the man wisely pulled away from the snarling vampire, an unreadable and contemplative expression on his face.

And then he waved his hand in a strange motion and Zephan’s world went black.


	2. hey i just met you, and this is crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone wakes tf up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the tag 'sexy blood feeding times' applies. But no porn just yet. Everything is consensual don't worry.
> 
> I hope this is sexy enough.
> 
> Also the spell that is used here isn't an actual DnD spell (or maybe I didn't search hard enough) and it's just me taking gratuitous liberties for the sake of Plot.
> 
> Beta'd but not edited. I don't have the energy for full scale editing anymore.

Zephan awoke to the smell of birchwood and incense and a candlelit room. It looked like the inside of an inn, since he could hear music downstairs paired with the scent of many warm-bodied individuals.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

He started out of the bed, and tumbled to the floor in a messy sprawl.

“Careful, you wouldn’t want to add more injuries to your sorry state.” The voice added dryly.

Zephan peeked over the side of the bed to glare at the owner of that voice. On the other side of the room was a dark haired man with pale grey eyes staring right back at Zephan, his lips pressed together in an unimpressed look. He was cross-legged on the floor, a satchel and cloak next to him and a censer with some parchment and ink in front of him.

“So are we going to stare at each other all day or are you going to ask me some questions?”

Zephan blinked and found his tongue. “Who the hell are you?”

The stranger snorted and picked up his quill, resuming whatever he was doing to the parchment in front of him. “I am Agron, worshipper of Loralie Anondynos.”

“You’re a priest?”

A small scowl formed on Agron’s face. “A cleric, not a priest.”

An interested grin crept on Zephan's face as the vampire clambered back up onto the bed he fell out of. “And what is a holy man like you saving and healing an unholy creature like me?”

The cleric looked back up at the pale-skinned ‘unholy creature’. “My god doesn’t give two shits about whether or not I rescue a vampire. In my book, vampires are modestly better than most of the people I meet on my travels. Also, I didn’t heal you.”

Zephan looked down on himself in astonishment. (hey where are his clothes- oh, right, kidnapping sorcerers) Sure enough, the man was right. His wrists and legs still bore the burn marks from the chains, and the burn from the sunlight was still, disconcertingly, unhealed. The incisions that were made when the sorcerers bled him for blood were no longer bleeding, but were still open.

And his Thirst was gone.

“Did you feed me?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then why do I…”

Agron rolled up the parchment he was working on before starting on a new one. “I cast a spell on you which would make a person not feel any hunger or pain. Or in your case, vampiric thirst.”

“Why didn’t you just heal me?”

Agron resolutely did not look at the vampire. Zephan stared. Agron rolled up another parchment.

“You don’t know any healing spells do you?”

“Shut up.” The cleric scowled. The vampire snorted. “I worship a death god, of course I don’t know any healing spells. And it’s not like they’ll work on you anyway. You’re an undead.”

Zephan was still chortling on the bed. He simmered down and sat up straight. “But thank you for getting me out of that godforsaken place. They fed me  _ rat’s _ blood.”

Agron wrinkled his nose. “I was wondering if a vial of that would quench your Thirst anyway.” He fished out a bottle of crimson liquid from his satchel. Zephan scowled at the memory of drinking that fucked up bullshit.

The cleric took that expression as an answer. “Well then it looks like we’re in a conundrum. I cannot release you into the open and from my spell until we are sure that you are fit for the public.”

“Why are you likening me to a feral beast?”

“You growled like one in the cells.”

“Fair point.”

Delicate silence filled the room. Zephan noticed that one of his nails were chipped. Agron seemed to be very interested in the tip of his quill.

“So-”

“Uh-”

“Oh, you first-”

“Oh, no you-”

The cleric sighed and abandoned his items on the floor. “I don’t know much about vampires, but I do know that even if my spell can remove the need for basic requirements, it's not sustainable and the body will grow weaker and eventually expire. The same applies to you." He gestured vaguely in his direction. "Vampires require blood to survive and sustain their own strengths, right? If you're severely injured, you'll burn through a good portion of the blood you've consumed in order to regenerate yourself, correct?"

Zephan nodded. He had heard of some daring vampires drinking down tons of blood before stepping into daylight for a few moments, just for the fun of it. When you're already dead, you have to get creative so that you can feel alive again, even if it's for a few scorching seconds.

"Which means I am right to assume that you are unable to glamour yourself right now."

The cleric was right again. Zephan could certainly try, but he'll most likely fail. And glamour was one of the easier ways for a vampire to blend into the general populace. They could make do without, but that would require wearing cloaks and masks and veils and- basically, it's not fun. Which also means-

"-I can't go out to feed without scaring off any possible targets."

"Unfortunately."

"You have any illusion spells?"

“Again, I worship a death god, not a trickster god-”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” Zephan shoved his fringe out of his eyes. He needs to get a haircut. You’d think that being an undead would mean that you wouldn’t have to deal with unnecessary things like haircuts or long nails or- aaaand he’s off track again like a train with a drunken mad driver on crack cocaine. Back on business. What was he on about? Right. Blood. He’s gonna have to entice a target over to feed without showing his face and without looking like a creepy asshole with a hood. Problem is, can he do that? I think the fuck not-

“You can feed from me.”

Waht.

(No, that is not a typo.)

Zephan looked back up at the cleric in front of him, his arms crossed and a very neutral look on his face.”

“Say that again.”

Agron gave a very impressive sigh, one that clearly conveyed a  _ why-the-fuck-am-I-doing-this _ tone as he repeated his offer.

“Why?”

Agron shrugged. “Isn’t it the best option right now? I have blood, I know that you’re a vampire so there’s no need for a disguise, once you’re fed I can finally release my spell, and I’m literally standing right here. What else do you need?”

Now it was Zephan’s turn to scowl. “I haven’t fed in weeks, even before I was captured. I’m gonna need a lot of blood. You might  _ die _ .”

Agron looked wholly unimpressed by the threat. “I won’t die.”

“Listen here, big shot. I’m the vamp here, not you, so I know what’s going on here whattafak-”

Agron had come up onto the bed, into Zephan’s personal space in one swift motion. “Like I said, I won’t die.” His gray eyes pierced into Zephan’s pitch black ones, and the vamp can feel his throat go dry a little. “So you can either feed from me right now, or I can lift my spell and you’ll be forced to succumb to your Thirst, which I don’t want to do. But I can if I must. Your choice.”

_ Damn he’s hot. _

Zephan averted his gaze because the delectable scent of birchwood and incense is much closer now and he needs to think clear fucking thoughts. You could get lost in those fucking eyes forever. “I’m serious, you could die.”

Agron sits back on his ankles. “And I’m serious when I say that I won’t die.”

The vampire inhaled sharply (bad idea cause he just got a whole lungful of that delicious scent) and relented. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The cleric didn’t say anything, but tugged his collar aside to expose his nape. Zephan tried his hardest not to stare. He was probably failing. They scooted a little closer and Zephan hesitantly placed his hands on Agron’s waist.

“Um, it’ll probably be more comfortable if you-”

Agron swiftly straddled Zephan like no one’s business. Um. Okay. Shit.

Fuck it.

Zephan pressed one hand between the cleric's shoulder blades to pull him even closer (He's only known him for like what, ten minutes? Gods.) and bit down on the exposed neck. Agron tensed a little at the pain before it is washed over by the aphrodisiac properties of vampiric saliva.

The moment fresh blood touched Zephan's tongue, his Thirst punched at him like a zombie thrashing it's way out of it's coffin. He released an animalistic growl and his grip on Agron tightened and he started sucking at his neck with unrestrained vigour. He could hear the man softly panting as the cleric gripped his arms tightly, his head supported by the vampire's shoulder as Zephan drank and drank and drank, surrounded by the hazy scent of birchwood and incense.

It was an exquisite moment, like how one wouldn't know that they were parched until they took a sip of cool, refreshing water. Agron shifted, and ah, there was one of the side effects of aphrodisiac saliva.

Slightly pleased at this discovery, Zephan bit down on his neck harder, relishing in the small noise that Agron made at the back of his throat. His Thirst as already gradually receding, and there was that tell-tale healing itch on the burns that he received. He breathed in deeply, taking in Agron's delicious scent. Gods, you could bottle it up and sell it like hotcakes.

Slowly, Zephan began to regain his own senses as the predatorial side of him backed off, satisfied with the supply of blood. He released his fangs from Agron's neck and gave the puncture wounds a lick, cleaning off any excess blood and letting the healing properties of his saliva to kick in. Unlike what some novels and stories like to think, vampire bites do not scar over and leave a mark.

Letting his illusions wash over his eyes and fangs, Zephan gave Agron a little nudge. "Hey, you still alive?" It was a joke, of course. He could still hear his heartbeat, and it was still going surprisingly strong. People dying from extreme blood loss wouldn't have a strong heartbeat.

But when Agron didn't respond, Zephan immediately knew something was wrong. The grip on his arms had gone slack at some point in time, and Zephan immediately lifted him off his shoulder, alarmed.

Agron's head drooped, his chin falling to his chest. The same pale grey eyes that Zephan were admiring were closed, and if the vampire didn't know any better, it would have seemed like he was dead. But he isn't.

The cleric was just unconscious.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry y'all, Agron's fine.
> 
> To clarify, in this story, vampiric venom is what turns people into vampires, and it must be released intentionally by the vampire itself. The sorcerers were compelling Agron to release venom so that they could study it. Releasing venom can take up a lot of energy, depending on how old/experienced the vampire is.
> 
> Vampiric saliva, on the other hand, is just something to make feeding time a bit easier for the 'prey' and the 'predator'. It has a subduing effect so that the 'prey' wouldn't struggle and healing properties so that the bites wouldn't leave a mark. I would like to say that the aphrodisiac properties are so that the entire process would be painless but no, I just want some sexy times between my two boys. I am not sorry.
> 
> Oh and before anyone asks, no I don't know what is the difference between a priest and a cleric.


	3. Imagine Zephan as a cockroach. There you go that's the entire chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dumbass is strong in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of exposition than anything. Those who don't want to read Lore and Plot can just skip the last few parts of this chapter. If you do want to read it, good for you. Have fun. I guess.
> 
> Beta'd but not edited. I don't have the energy for full-scale editing anymore.

"Why are you following me?"

"I dunno."

Agron stops in his tracks and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with exasperation. "You do know that I'm fine, right? I'm not going to spontaneously keel over and die."

"You don't know that."

Agron clenched his jaw and swiveled around to glare at the smartass vampire behind him. He had woken up a few hours after the feeding with the vampire anxiously pacing back and forth in the room. With clothes on, thankfully.

_“Did you look through my belongings?”_

_“Merlin’s dick! Fuck! You scared me!”_

_“Did you look through my belongings?”_

_“No! Why would I look through your shit?”_

_“You’re wearing my spare clothes.”_

_“Why, you’d prefer if I walked around naked?”_

_“No. But I found your belongings in the dungeons you were kept in. They’re over there.”_

_“Oh, okay.”_

_“Don’t strip here!”_

_“You’ve seen me naked!”_

It was...an experience.

But now, Agron had a tail which was an obnoxious vampire swaddled up in a long cloak to protect him from the sun, and who had somehow gotten into his head that the cleric was a soft, delicate flower that should be protected at all times lest a stiff wind blows over and kills it.

That isn’t true at all. He’s more of a tree.

And, admittedly, he didn’t expect himself to pass out during the feeding. It definitely wasn’t from blood loss, but more likely due to the fact that he had not slept at all after the raid on the sorcerers’ dungeons. If he slept, the spell he had cast on Zephan would have lifted and the vampire would be left to succumb to his own Thirst. That wouldn’t be ideal for him and the other patrons in the inn.

Agron was already running on his last fumes when he offered his blood to the vampire, and whatever aphrodisiac/calming substance that was keyed into his system from the bite probably just pushed him over the edge to unconsciousness.

It was kind of embarrassing.

But whatever. Agron turned his back to the vampire again and continued forth to the town gates, sounds of the market swarming around them as they pass through. Anything that his past experiences have taught him is that annoying things will just leave and fade away if you ignore them long enough.

"Where are you going?"

Agron jolts. So much for ignoring annoying things.

He glanced up towards the beaten path outside the gates. "Northwest."

"How long are you travelling for?"

Agron stops again, just right outside the town gates. "I'm not answering until you answer my question."

"What question?"

"Why are you following me?"

"I did answer that. I said that I don't know."

Agron takes his staff and thwacks the vampire right on his head. It feels like striking a rock. At least the vampire looked like he genuinely felt the pain. (takes three points of bludgeoning damage.)

"Answer me truthfully."

Zephan pouts. "I was truthful. I'm just following you out of impulse."

Agron resists the urge to waste a spell slot by casting Zone of Truth. He turns back sharply and continues on his journey. Ignore the annoying thing and the annoying thing will go away.

"So why are you going northwest? What's there to see? How long are we going to travel for? Do you even have a compass?"

He does not know. His goddess has given him this innate sense to feel...tugging from all sorts of directions, and the pull coming from the northwest is what feels the strongest right now, and that is where he is going. He's been doing this for years, following different pulls from different directions, providing his own powers and services to whatever that has brought him there.

Sometimes he is rewarded by whoever he has helped, sometimes he is cursed at by those he has approached. But it is more often that he slips away unnoticed after completing his duties. Death is often a fleeting thing, and what he does is just to aid it or to destroy those who attempt to laugh and fool their way out of their own expiration date through unnatural means.

And it seems that his latest expedition has granted him a new attachment who has decided to be the most infuriating humanoid-cockroach ever. And Agron _has_ fought human-sized cockroaches before.

At least the vampire is quiet. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something to note here: Loralie Anondynos (Agron's god) is Homebrew, so don't bother searching up what she's about. I tried, and Google just gave me some unrelated results, one of which was a review page.
> 
> Bit of a shorter chapter this time, more exposition than anything, but I hoped you enjoyed the tiny flashback scene. I will not tell y'all about the amount of time I spent laughing at "Merlin's dick". I am mature. Mature people do not giggle at penis cursing.


	4. "He's growing on me like a fungus." -Agron, at some point.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very famous trope is used here. Room-sharing. But it's less romantic than you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't really like the way this chapter turned out, but the main purpose of this fic (to me) was to make this writing process enjoyable, and that involves not stressing out over pacing and tone and more of enjoying shitting out words onto paper. Or in this case, a screen.
> 
> Another filler chapter with lore and plot points and a bit of chemistry buildup. If this is getting boring for you, don't worry. There's a fight scene in the next chapter. Let's just hope that I can make it exciting.
> 
> Unbeta'd and slightly edited. I don't have the energy for full scale editing anymore.

They travelled for two days. Two days and a night on the roads, nothing to be seen for miles except for dirt and trees and grass and rocks. Every now and then there would be a glimpse of a small animal such as a hare or a sparrow, but they would quickly duck away into the ground or the trees, as if terrified of the two strange cloaked figures, one with a staff and one with a large, wide brimmed straw hat.

Within that span of two days of travel, Agron learned a few things about the vampire-cum-cockroach that was following him.

Zephan never slept. Either that or he slept very little. But the thing was that Agron also did not need to sleep for very long, just for a few hours, and from when he closed his eyes for rest to when he opened his eyes from a dreamless slumber, Zephan was always awake. The vampire did have a bedroll, but he never seemed to use it other than sit on it and stare endlessly into the campfire. Agron didn't know if this was a vampire thing or just something unique to this strange creature called Zephan, but he filed that bit of information away to ponder about some other time.

Another thing was that the vampire always stopped to look at things. Most of the time it was just flowers, and he would pause abruptly just to look at it or admire it while Agron moved on without him like nothing happened. A few minutes later there would be a small gust of wind from behind and the vampire would be right by his side again, having caught up to the cleric using his vampiric speed.

And despite internally calling Zephan a pest, the vampire was not hair-wrenchingly irritating. He did hum bawdy ballads under his breath every now and then, but he was surprisingly quiet. No questions were asked throughout the entire journey, not even when Agron didn't eat anything for the whole two days, or when he woke up in the wee hours of the night to pack up and continue on traveling. (Like he said, Agron did not need much sleep, so he often set off immediately after he was done resting, even if that meant travelling in the dark.)

It might have been disconcerting to many, but Agron was merely intrigued. Curious, and intrigued. And if anything, it was sort of a blessing in disguise. Two travellers were always better than one, and the company was much better than the many others whom he had travelled with. It was silent company, but there is always something comforting (?) about the silent presence of another person as the both of them lose themselves in their own thoughts.

The vampire was also surprisingly tenacious. Not a single word came out of both their mouths, and Agron made no move whatsoever to acknowledge Zephan, yet he still continued to follow the cleric, which baffled Agron. Wouldn't it be better if vampires remained nocturnal? What was the point of following a stranger on an unknown journey while having the risk of getting burnt? Questions raced through Agron's head, but he kept them to himself.

Let the vampire do whatever the vampire wants. He doesn't care.

As the second day progressed into a dusky crimson sky, the two travellers reached a small town, which was also their destination. Agron got a little baffled as Zephan followed him into one of the town inns. Surely he wasn't about to follow him straight into the rooms? He has to put his foot down at some point-

That train of thought was broken when they started talking to a barkeep in The Portly Pig.

“My apologies, but there’s only one free room left.”

“Excuse me?”

The barkeep did look genuinely apologetic. “There’s a festival coming up the day after tomorrow, y’see. Lotsa folks coming around from the neighbouring towns to sell their wares and sightsee. I’m almost booked out except for one room left. You can head to other inns, but they might be fully booked out instead.”

From his periphery, Agron saw the vampire glance in his direction. “I can settle down outside, I really don’t need-”

Agron exhaled deeply, disbelief at the fact that he was actually considering something else. “We’ll take the room. How much for a night?”

Zephan stared. Agron pulled out his money pouch.

“Three silver for a night.”

The cleric set down six silver coins and a few coppers as a tip. The barkeep exchanged the coins with two keys, one of which Agron tossed at the vampire. “Have a cot brought up to the room as well. Is there a washroom?”

When Agron returned to their room from the communal washrooms, the cot had already been set up, with Zephan sitting on it, idly tracing patterns on the sheets. The orange glow from the sunset was slowly dimming, casting long shadows throughout the entire room.

Zephan lifted his head when Agron entered. “You really didn’t need to share the room with me. I’ve stayed in worse-”

“Save it. Just be thankful that I have a conscience.”

“At least let me pay you back?”

Agron paused halfway through taking off his cloak. He looked at the coins in the vampire’s outstretched hand. And took only three out of the six silver coins.

(A/N: I’m literally stuck here and I don’t know how to connect this to another scene so right now I’m gonna say that Zephan leaves the room to shower and Agron starts doing his daily prayers.)

When Zephan returned, the cleric was already deep in prayer, his hands clasped around a holy symbol as he sat cross-legged on the floor. Small tendrils of incense smoke drifted out from a censer placed before him. His lips were moving as if mouthing sentences, but every now and then he'd stop and make a few expressions, as if listening to someone.

He's seen Agron do this before, last night at the campfire, and it never failed to unnerve him a little. His own vampiric nature is like a bane to holy gods and divinity, so seeing a scene that implied a heavy divine presence sent a few chills down his spine.

When Agron finally snapped out of his trance-like state, it was dark outside, and he blinked a little at the pitch black room.

"What time is it?" He asked the slightly glowing eyes in the corner.

"Sometime past midnight. That was a rather long prayer to your god. Anything happen?"

Agron sighed. The nosy questions were bound to happen at some time. "More of idle chit-chat. Where's the candles?"

There was a slight bit of rummaging and a slim stick of wax was pressed into Agron's hands. He lit the candle and held it up. The dim candle glow showed the vampire casually sprawled on the cot, his dark tousled hair slightly damp and his emerald green eyes gleaming like a cat's.

"I'm going to the washroom. Goodnight." And Agron turned and swiftly left the room with the candle, casting the place in darkness again. The green eyes blinked in astonishment.

~

The next day showed our two protagonists at the tavern downstairs, one silently having breakfast while the other was making small talk with the tavern owner.

"Say, any jobs that I can do for you to earn a few coin? Just for one or two days, like an errand for anything. I'm strong and I'm willing to do any heavy labour that you require."

The owner gave Zephan a once over. "You don't look strong. You look more like a pale skinny runt."

Agron snorted.

The vampire and the tavern owner started discussing cost and labour and the conversation started growing a little more heated. Agron let the exchange wash over him as background noise as he shifted his gaze over to the rest of the tavern. Early morning light drifted in through the windows, casting the entire area in light shadows. A man was slumped over a table, unconscious from a night of heavy drinking while the barkeep from last night was methodically cleaning up the mess left behind from last night. A small, miserable pile of broken chairs sat in a corner of the tavern, waiting to be repaired or thrown away.

Agron felt a solid tug from the pull that had led him to this town.

It was time. He silently picked up his staff and slipped out of the tavern, leaving behind a tip for the poor barkeep who has to clean up the place by itself.

~

Zephan found him sometime around mid-morning in an alleyway, the sounds of the bustling street reaching him as he made his way to the cloaked figure with a staff.

"What are you doing?"

Agron did not let his gaze drift from a window above them that was opened slightly ajar as he put a finger to his lips, a universal gesture of _hush, you idiot._

Zephan frowned. "Seriously, what are you doing here? You do know that you look like a creep, right?"

The cleric sighed. "Use your ears for once and tell me what you hear. Then I'll answer your question."

The vampire cocked his head to the side, his emerald eyes striking and curious in the shade of his ridiculously large hat. Agron waited as Zephan listened, and a look of confusion spread over the vampire's face as he registered the noises and the blood scent that he could detect in the house.

"The child…"

"Caught a disease which took hold of his leg. The town surgeon most likely had to get it amputated since it was all dead tissue, but the disease still spreads. He'll be gone by dawn tomorrow."

Agron didn't need vampiric hearing to know that the boy was most likely in agony, both from the amputation wound and the disease that had taken hold of his lungs. Every breath was a struggle, a death rattle. Agron always felt a twinge of guilt whenever he encountered a case like this, but he still has to adhere to his duties. He sat down on the ground, his back to a wall, and drew out his censer and some incense.

"Are you gonna help him? Pray to your god and all that shit? That's what you're doing right now, right?"

"I'm not. I can't."

Silence followed. Agron sighed again and set down his staff.

"You already know that I don't have any healing spells in my repertoire, and there's nothing I can do even if I can heal him. His death has already been written in the fates, and the Reaper will come to collect his soul. Even if I manage to heal him, the boy will only live on borrowed time, and will still perish in a few days.”

More silence ensued, an unspoken question hung between the two cloaked figures.

"I worship the God of Painless Death, which means that one of my duties involve ensuring that the innocent pass away peacefully when their time comes. Suffering can tie a soul to the material plane and cause more agony, so my job is to ensure that conflict wouldn't arise with anguished spirits, and that innocents would not experience pain during their last moments." He lit a stick of incense and placed it in the censer. An iron curtain of quiet hung around the two, punctuated by occasional sounds from the town square that was quite far from where they were situated.

"That sounds a little messed up."

Agron snorted, and he made a delicate and complex spell movement with his hands.

"Took me a while to get used to it too." He focussed on the line of smoke drifting out from the censer into the slightly ajar window. The first part was always tricky, to make sure that he could get a proper grasp on the target before the effects of the spell could work.

Zephan tilted his head again, no doubt hearing that the boy's small sobs and whimpers had faded and his breathing (albeit a little broken) had relaxed and started to even out. The sick boy was asleep.

Zephan looked back at the cleric, sitting cross legged before a censer that was giving off incense smoke, and realised that this was the same spell that Agron had used on him after he was rescued from the cult's imprisonment.

He turned on his heel and walked out of the alleyway, and Agron watched him go, a small ball of worry unconsciously growing in the cleric's mind. But the vampire wasn't gone for long. He returned ten minutes later with two meat pies wrapped in greasy paper.

Agron squinted at him.

"Lunch." He said as explanation, handing one to Agron before plopping himself next to the cleric and taking a bite out of the other pie.

Agron frowned at the innocuous looking pastry. "Do you even need to eat?"

"Nope." He said around a mouthful of pastry. "But they smelt nice and they were sold for three coppers for every two pies, so I thought why not."

The cleric took a cautious bite and chewed. Pretty good considering that any type of meat could have been used for filling.

And so our two protagonists sat in an alleyway eating pies filled with mystery meat while a child laid on their deathbed, sleeping peacefully until dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, not very proud on how this turned out. Even the ending's really meh. Ugh.
> 
> For this spell that Agron has (original, solely created for this story, I'm open for name suggestions), it's a concentration spell, so he literally has to sit there and not cast any other concentration spells or get distracted in order to keep the spell effects going. Poor guy. Components include: holy symbol, incense and censer. Just some fun tidbits for those who know DnD.


	5. it's festival time, bitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff. Some. And also Agron being a marginally excited boi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised a fight scene in this chapter. But when I was writing this, I thought that it was too long, so this is essentially part one of chapter 5. The second part will be posted next week. Cos I need a teensy little break.
> 
> Beta'd and slightly edited. Because if I don't, my anxiety will consume me. But I still don't have the energy for full scale editing.

When dawn came, so did the last breath of the young boy. There was a pause after the last exhale, and the cleric extinguished the flame on the burning incense. A small pile of incense ash was left on the ground as a stiff morning breeze drifted past, simultaneously blowing away the thick scent of birchwood and incense.

A white figure stepped into his periphery, and Zephan started. Agron didn’t seem bothered, however, ad gave the figure a small nod from where he was seated. The figure nodded back.

As it drew closer, Zephan observed that the figure was a female dressed in a pure white cloak, her features soft and peaceful, and a small sickle was loosely grasped in her hands. She stepped through the solid wood of the walls of the house the boy was in, passing through as if they weren’t there at all. Agron seemed unaffected by the proceedings, and started packing his censer and remaining blocks of incense.

“Was that the Reaper?” Zephan had expected something....darker.

“One of them.” Came the reply. “There are different Reapers for different occasions, despite popular belief.”

He stood up, not showing any signs of stiffness despite sitting in one position for too long. His face was calm and aloof, but Zephan noted a hint of fatigue under those cold-gray eyes. He looked a lot like the time when Zephan woke in that inn after being rescued from that cult of sorcerers, also smelling strongly of birchwood and incense.

Another movement happened in his periphery, and the White Reaper phased through the walls again, this time holding the hand of an adolescent boy. His form was translucent and slightly blurry around the edges, and he was looking down at his two legs in astonishment and wonder. He didn’t seem to care about the two men who were standing in the alleyway outside his house, in fact skipping happily alongside the White Reaper.

The two figures walked to the mouth of the alleyway and seemed to disappear in the dim rays of morning sun, leaving behind two strange men standing in the alleway. (like fools)

“So what next?” Zephan asked, a little breathless. He has never seen anything like this before, despite his long lifespan. He has never seen a Reaper before, and has never heard of a person with a job quite like Agron’s. He’s heard of clerics who worshipped death gods and he’s heard of magic users accomplishing remarkable and noteworthy feats, but he’s never heard anything quite like this. Something that is done quietly in the shadows of an alleyway, and yet seems so quiet and sacred.

Agron was already heading towards the mouth of the alleyway, his hood drawn up over his head and his staff held loosely in his hands.

“I’m going to bed.” His tone dismissive and tired. “We leave tomorrow morning.”

~

The sun was still fairly high in the sky when the cleric came back down to the tavern, his hair a little mussed from sleep, sans cloak. He blinked as he surveyed the fairly empty tavern while registering the loud, joyful sounds coming in from outside. The vampire was also not present, and Agron felt a pang of...uneasiness?

Why? Zephan was his own person, it didn’t matter where he went or what he did.

Agron got some answers out of the currently idle barkeep over some late lunch.

“Surprised that you came here without knowing anything ‘bout the festival. We’re celebrating the harvest. Even your friend was askin’ me where was the best spot to watch the fireworks.”

Agron frowned. There were fireworks? Gods, he hasn’t seen any of those in a while. Surprising that a small-ish town had the means to set off fireworks in the first place. Is it safe?

The barkeep noticed the look on the cleric’s face. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. We set off the fireworks in the fields, not in town. We even mark out spots where the people can see it as close as possible without getting hurt. You can see the lights for miles.”

Agron huffed out a breath. It was ironic that while a joyous occasion was celebrated, somewhere in the town, a family was mourning for the loss of a son right now.

“You can probably get a view from the top of the tavern, but you’ll get a much better view from the buildings closer to the edge of the town. Fireworks go off at the sixth hour, but it’s best that you get a spot before that. Things might get cramped.”

~

Agron was in the fields halfway between the fifth and sixth hour. Remnant light from the swiftly setting sun still illuminated the sky and the fields, but there were already some townsfolk going around lighting large bonfires and lanterns propped on long sticks, for when the place eventually got dark. There were also some townsfolk who were mingling around with large, steaming mugs of warm ale or mulled wine, a good portion with red on their cheeks and noses, either from the cold or from the alcohol. Families laid out blankets on the slightly chilly ground, and parents watched indulgently as their children capered around with boundless energy.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

There was Zephan, standing there with half a candied apple and a paper bag with one or two grease stains. A stiff autumn breeze blew past, and Agron drew his cloak tighter around himself. What was he thinking, going out in just a tunic and trousers? At least he had the sense to bring his staff, but now he just felt awkward and bulky with it. What kind of person brings a staff when viewing fireworks? He felt the urge to head back to the tavern and go back to sleep, fireworks be damned.

Agron gave a silent nod to the vampire in response.

A bright grin broke out on Zephan’s face as he handed the paper bag over to the cleric. Got some stuff for you. Didn’t know what you might prefer, so I just got something simple.”

There were three mini pies, two doughnuts and another candied apple. One of the pies even smelt like the meat pies they had in the alleyway last night. But it was altogether a bit too much for one person, let alone Agron.

“I think there’s an apple pie in there or something.”

Agron resisted the urge to start eating immediately.

“Why did you get me food?”

Zephan shrugged. His ridiculously large hat was lopsided and seemed to be on the verge of falling off, and his cloak was fully open, revealing an unbuttoned vest and unlaced tunic. “Didn’t know when you’d be up, so I got you dinner before it was too late.”

Agron was already awake in the afternoon, but he hadn’t planned on getting dinner anyway.

“Thanks.”

Zephan wandered off towards a cart selling warm ale, and Agron drifted towards the edge of the growing crowds. A thrum of anticipating energy could be felt throughout the townsfolk as they settled down in the fields or in the nearby buildings. Bright laughter and shrieking children punctuated the swiftly chilling air. Agron took a bite out of a warm mushroom herb pie.

He let the sounds wash over him. Usually he would be travelling non-stop to wherever his duties pulled him towards, so it was nice to have some downtime every now and then.

The cleric finished off the mushroom pie and was reaching for another one when a sudden chill of dread ran up his spine.

  
The sixth hour bell chime started up. Agron invoked _Eyes of the Grave_. A high pitched, terrified scream split the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depiction of the White Reaper is inspired by [ "Döden" ("Death") by Janis Rozentāls](https://cedareducation.org.uk/thinking-differently-about-death-through-art-nave-death-1897-by-janis-rozentals/). I originally saw the picture on Pinterest which was a screenshot of a Reddit page posted on Tumblr, but to make myself seem intellectual, I added a link that led to a website that gave an analysis of the painting instead. It's fascinating. Read it.
> 
> Agron says that he worships a death god, which is true, but I placed him as a grave domain cleric, because it seemed to fit better. The fact that he just used _Eyes of the Grave_ makes that clear. Grave domain is so fucking cool man. And yes, my boi's fave food is apple pie. And he likes fireworks. I am the writer. I am capable of such feats. Muahahahaha.
> 
> (For those who don't play dnd: _Eyes of the Grave_ is an ability granted to Grave Domain clerics which allows then to sense the presence of the undead.)
> 
> In our world, gunpowder was originally made for guns, before some people decided to develop it into pretty fireworks. However, in this world, fireworks are the one that came first, and then guns, because I say so.
> 
> Kidding, kidding. There's a whole lotta lore surrounding this world cos _surprise_ I didn't create this world solely for my bois. I plopped them into an already existing world which I created for a different original story. The thrilling saga of "What came first, fireworks or guns?" is not paramount to this narration, so y'all just need to know that in this world, fireworks are super advanced and guns are super shitty. So far.


	6. here's some cleric badassery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight scene that I promised. I hope I made it exciting enough. Also brought to you by: "How the fuck do you write romance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agron's a level 3 cleric, but that information isn't really that important. Also, to all those DnD players, don't yell at me about the spells. Creative liberty has been made, because I want to.
> 
> Unbeta'd and unedited. I don't have to energy for full scale editing anymore.

Zephan smelt it before the screaming started. The piercing, acrid smell of rotting flesh, saturated with necromancy and malice. And the wretched scent of gnolls. Undead gnolls.

A brilliant burst of sacred flame burst out of the crowd and struck down one of the gnolls. Townsfolk were panicking and shifting away from the commotion, and Zephan caught a glimpse of Agron fending off a pack of undead, a look of grim determination plastered on his face. A few gnolls were circling him, flanking him.

The mug of half-finished ale in his hand clattered to the ground, and the vampire sped towards the fight.

~

There was the  _ snick _ of a gnolls head being sliced off cleanly, and Agron turned to see Zephan, his dark emerald eyes glinting dangerously, and his unnaturally long nails slick with blood. His teeth were bared, a facsimile of a smile.

"How's the festival so far?"

Agron snorted. Figured that the vampire would be the type to pull jokes during battle. He set off another bout of flame from his staff and reached for his component pouch - only to internally curse when he remembered that he left the rest of his items back in the inn.

"It's going well so far, but I think these mutts are ruining the mood. Cover your ears."

"What?"

Zephan covered his ears anyway, and Agron forcibly clapped his hands together.  _ "Toll." _

A large, dolorous bell sound seemed to echo from that clap, filling the air and causing the vampire to flinch, but the undead gnolls seemed to be affected more, some keeling over and whining, the sound still ringing in their ears. Agron swiftly dispatched a gnolls with it's own spear, and Zephan took out two more with his nails.

A shrill shriek split the air once more, and both men turned to see a gnoll advancing on a woman who had stumbled on the ground, an ugly grin set on it's face as spittle dripped from it's hackles.

"Oh no you don't-  _ Hold! _ "

Agron stretched out a hand and gripped it into a fist, the unseen spell immediately stopping the gnoll in it's tracks, it's eyes bulging out in terror and shock when it couldn't move it's body. Zephan was by it's side in an instant, casually - almost gracefully - loping off it's head with his razor sharp nails. Agron released the spell, relieved-

"Fuck!"

Sharp pain burst out from the side of his torso as a gnoll took advantage of Agron's momentary lapse in attention to lunge forward and clamp it's jaws on his side. Muttering curses under his breath, Agron dropped his staff and firmly grasped the gnoll around it's neck to cast  _ Inflict Wounds. _

The gnoll let go and yowled before falling to it's side, limp and unconscious. Agron dropped to his knees, gripping his bleeding side as a few more choice words poured out of his mouth. Zephan was next to him again.

"Agron-"

"I'm fine."

"You're-"

"I'm fine!" He snarled, and smacked a bloody palm against the vampire's leg.  _ "Guidance." _

He didn't need to look up to see the look of surprise on Zephan's face as the vampire felt his muscles strengthen minutely.

"I won't die, just go!"

There was still hesitation on Zephan's face, but more terrified screams convinced him to speed towards the gnolls that were getting closer to the crowds.

A growl forced Agron to look up, and a slow grin spread across his face. There were still a few more gnolls in front of him, several feet away, clearly outnumbering him, yet fear was evident in their features, most likely due to their unconscious friend at his feet.

Agron painfully got to his feet, staff in his hands, and a gnoll lunged at him. He crouched and knocked away the gnoll's spear with his staff, coming in close to it's half-rotted ribcage and slammed his palm onto it, casting another  _ Inflict Wounds. _

The gnoll yelped and was blasted backwards. Agron flicked his wrist, scattering drops of his own blood and hissed,  _ "Bane." _

The gnolls whined as the spell's effect took hold. Agron didn't wait for them to recover, however, and sent off several  _ Guiding Bolts _ towards them. Some fell limp onto the ground, but a few remained standing. All three of them kept at Agron, enraged and the cleric reedided himself-

A figure dashed in between and plunged it's nails into the closest two gnolls. Agron blinked as Zephan flung to two dead gnolls at the last remaining survivor, effectively stopping it in it's tracks before slitting it's throat.

Zephan turned to Agron, his emerald eyes replaced with pure pitch black, and traces of fangs were poking out from his lips.

The cleric sighed heavily, leaning some of his weight onto his staff. "Told you I wouldn't die."

~

Zephan fucking hates crowds.

Well, 'hate' is a strong word. How about, 'heavily avoids'?

It's just that sometimes, things get a bit much. So many blood scents mingling together, coupled with his enhanced hearing and sight…it gets overwhelming sometimes. He'd go for open, rolling fields over noisy, bustling marketplaces at any time. And there's also the risk of someone accidentally brushing against him and flinching at his ice-cold skin. Staying covered in a cloak prevented that, but accidents can happen.

So something inside of him cringed when the barkeep mentioned that a festival was fast approaching.

That's like, a 100% guarantee for large crowds and noisy people and just an assault on his enhanced senses. There's a reason why vampires are often solitary creatures, alright. And it's not like Zephan's extremely experienced in this whole vampire shtick anyway.

But hey, there's food.

So when Agron was asleep (so many questions for that cleric, man.), Zephan went out to peruse the stalls, especially those which sold those hot, steaming circles of fried dough which were sprinkled liberally with sugar and syrup. Those donuts were still hot and tender when he bit into them, and the soft pillowy sugary goodness was almost enough to make him accidentally lose grip on his glamour several times.

(And like, he got some extra coin from the innkeeper from hauling crates and transporting goods, so he can splurge a bit.)

He was a bit apprehensive when he found out about the fireworks, cause, those are murder on his ears, damnit, and there's bound to be crowds around the more popular viewing spot, so he asked around to find out where they were to avoid those spots.

Imagine his surprise when he caught a glimpse of Agron making his way towards the fields. He didn't make the cleric out to be the type to indulge in firework viewing, but then again, Agron never failed to surprise him over and over again, so what's one more surprise?

He didn't expect to instinctively follow the cleric into the fields though. And he didn't expect to be able to strike up a (mostly one-sided) conversation with Agron too. He did seem thankful for the food that the vampire brought him though.

(And gods, did he just wake up? His hair seemed to be a little more mussed than normal, and he was just in a tunic and trousers, missing his usual high-collared dark-coloured vest.)

~~ (It was low-key adorable) ~~

And one last thing that he didn't expect was a whole pack of undead gnolls to attack the town right before the fireworks started.

But the gnolls were dispatched off fairly quickly, but the sharp copper tang of Agron's blood still filled the air. And yet, despite his injuries, the cleric started moving the bodies and stacking them up into a pile.

"What are you doing? You're gonna bleed out!"

"I'm making sure that these bastards won't come back to life again." Another bout of sacred flame burst out from his staff, which then consumed the pile of gnoll bodies in a wretched parody of a bonfire.

As Zephan watched the bodies burn with a grim sense of curiosity (Whoever was controlling those bastards is some sort of sick genius. Necromancy ain't just cakewalk.), some of the townsfolk were slowly edging their way towards the fields, wary of the two cloaked figure who just kicked ass with a pack of undead gnolls.

A familiar sense of irritation started growing at the back of his mind, and Zephan looked towards Agron, a question on his lips.

Only to find that the cleric had disappeared. He squinted, and found a dark, hooded figure silently weaving through the crowds. What the hell was he doing? He just got bit by a gnoll, no one should be moving around like that unless they wanted to bleed out.

_ "I won't die." _ came the phrase, unbidden, to his mind. People who said that were either prideful sods or obnoxious daredevils. Agron was neither.

Zephan slipped through the crowd after him, making sure that his glamour was firmly in place before he accidentally scares anyone. It was only when he burst through the crowd where he allowed himself to use his vampiric speed to catch up to the cleric just as when he reached the tavern entrance.

"Agron-"

"I'm fine." Came the reply. The barkeep was still in the tavern, a novel in his hands, a little stunned when he saw the cleric and the vampire enter.

"No you're not! I can still smell your blood!"

"When I say that I'm fine, trust me on the fact that I'm fine." Agron didn't face him, and started heading up the stairs that led to the rooms.

_ "You got bit by a gnoll." _ Zephan reached out to grab the cleric, but Agron wrenched his arm out of the vampire's grasp, whirling around to face him. Zephan shrank back a bit, afraid that he had overstepped, but it wasn't anger in the cleric's eyes, just disgruntlement and annoyance.

"How many times must I tell you?  _ I'm fine. _ " Agron heaved the edge of his bloodstained tunic and yanked it upwards, revealing the pale skin of his lower torso, smeared with blood, but devoid of any wounds or bite marks.

"What?"

The cleric let his tunic fall back down. He fidgeted, as if a little awkward and hesitant under Zephan's gaze. Somewhere in the background, there was the sound of fireworks going off, a startling contrast to the current atmosphere.

"Believe me when I say that I won't die, okay?" His voice was lower, softer, as if sharing a secret, tone a little defensive. That statement hung in the air, silence adding to the growing confusion in Zephan. The cleric had a white-knuckled grip on his staff and looked like he was about to hit the vampire with it.

Agron sighed, and the moment broke. Tension seemed to visibly leak out of his shoulder as he turned and headed up the stairs.

Zephan turned to the barkeep who was staring with wide eyes. Chains of  _ whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck _ was racing through his mind. He was sure that Agron was injured, and he was sure that he'd smelt the scent of the cleric's blood exposed to the air. Either Agron was lying when he said that he didn't have any healing spells in his repertoire, or something was...afoot?

Listen, he doesn't have a way with words, okay?

"Do you have any ale? I dropped mine during battle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun writing from Zephan's perspective again. I realised halfway through writing this chapter that I haven't adopted his mindset for the past few chapters, and that was something that had to be fixed. And yes, He loves doughnuts just as much as how Agron loves apple pie.
> 
> Don't worry too much about the ending. These bois aren't arguing. Agron's just grumpy cos he couldn't see the fireworks. They'll be alright in the next chapter.


	7. questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what the title says. But maybe not what you think.
> 
> Unbeta'd and unedited. I don't have the energy for full scale editing anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time. Bit more dialogue-heavy, not much plot, but what can I say. It's a filler chapter.

"Tell me something about yourself."

The cleric looked up from his book, eyebrows raised. They were in a cart filled with trading goods, wheels rumbling over a well-traveled path and heavy canvas sheets slung over it in high domes to provide shelter from the elements. The cart in front of them had laughter and music coming from its occupants, a stark contrast to the quiet surrounding Agron and Zephan.

The morning after saving the townsfolk from the gnolls, a man approached them (presumably the mayor) and thanked them for their efforts last night, and  _ is there any way we could repay you? _

Agron seemed unused to the attention, but requested for transport heading towards the North. They were then introduced to a travelling merchant family who were also heading North. So here they were, crammed at the back of the second cart, facing each other as music played from the cart ahead of them.

(To be fair, the merchant's family initially offered them to join everyone in the first cart, but Agron wordlessly climbed into the second cart, where there was just about enough room for two men to squeeze in comfortably. Zephan gave the family an apologetic grin, and climbed into the cart with Agron.)

"Why?"

Zephan casually lifted a shoulder. "Can you blame me? You're a mysterious man who worships a God who I don't even know, and you deal with dying people and Reapers on a regular basis. You can't fault me for being curious."

"I don't 'deal' with Reapers."

"Yeah, but you see them almost all the time. You know anyone else who's like that?"

"Yes."

The vampire rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, but I don't. Let this poor man have his questions, okay?"

Agron squinted at Zephan, unconvinced.

"How about this. I ask a question, and then you can ask a question back at me. Then we'll both get to know each other better. Fair?"

"What if I don't want to answer a question?"

"Then I'll just ask another question. An answer for an answer. Equal trade. You in?"

Agron put his book away and settled in. Interest danced in his eyes. "I'm in. What's your question?"

Zephan pretended to think about it. "Why didn't you join the trader's family in the first cart?"

Agron leaned against the stack of goods next to him. "I don't like being surrounded by people when travelling. Why didn't  _ you _ join them?"

A sharp grin took over Zephan's features. "I wanted to interrogate a certain cleric."

A hint of amusement danced in those stormy gray eyes. "Next question."

"What is it exactly, that you do? Like, your duties as a cleric."

Agron sat up a little straighter. "You've already seen most of it. I'm called to different locations when innocent people are suffering, and provide them some relief before their time is up. It doesn't just include illnesses like that boy yesterday."

Zephan frowned. "Then, that cult where you rescued me from…"

"They were attempting to cheat death, and their practices were unethical. Any cleric who worships a death god or even a magic user with proper morals would have done the same." A pause. "You've asked me two questions."

Zephan sputtered. "The last one wasn't a question!"

"Yes, but I gave you two answers. 'An answer for an answer', am I right?" The cleric gave Zephan a sly grin.

The vampire eyed him back, mouth slightly agape as he resurveyed the man in front of him. "Fine. You can ask me two questions."

Agron leaned back, his grin turning casual. His staff was laid across his knees and his cloak was folded and placed on one side, the top button of his vest unbuttoned, revealing the pale expanse of his neck.

"How did that cult capture you in the first place?"

Zephan blinked. "They got me when I was already running low on blood, and weakened me with a trap of holy water." He shifted so that his arms were resting on the edge of the cart. "I was staying in one spot for too long, so they most likely figured out my feeding patterns and ambushed me when I went out to feed."

Agron hummed. "How often do vampires need to feed?"

Zephan blew out a breath, thinking. "Depends on how much we drink every time, I guess. Ms maybe when we get heavily injured by the sun or silver." The vampire tilted his head to the side. "I don't drain my victims, so I feed weekly. When I can. Sometimes circumstances may not be ideal for feeding."

His emerald eyes turned to Agron, a dangerously mischievous look in them. "My turn. Are you a virgin?"

Agron did a double take. "No. Why is this relevant?"

"Because I wanted to. And I wanted to see your expression. Also you just asked me a question so I get to ask one back to you." Zephan's sharp grin returned.

Agron shifted. "You're very childish."

"Pot, meet kettle." Zephan leaned forward, intent on seeing the cleric embarrassed. "Who was your first?"

Agron looked away. "Specify."

"Ooo, there were a few? What a player~"

The cleric cleared his throat. "First kiss was with a girl in my hometown."

"First roll in the hay?"

Agron side-eyed the vampire. "That's a second question."

"Then ask two back at me. I don't mind."

Agron averted his gaze. "Man I meet in a tavern. He was- ah- very patient with my inexperience."

Zephan wolf-whistled. Agron glared.

"Don't bother asking me any sex questions, Mr-Glary-Eyes. I have sex when I feed."

Agron stared. "Why?"

"That's one question right there."

"Just answer it."

"Ha!" Zephan leaned back. "Well, you've felt what a vampire bite is like, right? So if I bite someone while they're climaxing, they won't notice, right? They'll probably think that I'm into biting, and any fatigue they have due to blood loss can just be written off as exertion during sex. I get my blood, they get a night to remember. Win-win!"

An amused look took over Agron's face. "How very chivalrous."

"Well, no one's complaining. Next question!"

~

They were on the road for three days.

None of the merchant’s family members questioned why Zephan needed to cover himself up whenever he got out of the cart, and Agron’s tendency to keep to himself, so it was pretty okay. They reached another bustling trading town on the fourth day, and that was where they parted ways with the merchant’s family. The family would be staying at a friend’s house and would barter and trade their goods for a few weeks before heading West, while Agron and Zephan would continue North the next day.

They were settling into their tavern room (two beds this time) when Agron felt someone’s gaze on him. He looked up to see Zephan staring at him, his eyes pitch black and his back against the wall, avoiding the rays of the setting sun that were coming in from the window. Shadows obscured part of his face, while golden rays made his hair look almost auburn.

“Are you going to stare at me all day or tell me what’s on your mind?”

Zephan turned away and blinked, his eyes shifting back to emerald. “I have to feed.”

“If you have sex in this room I will burn you with holy water.”

“So you don’t mind if I did it somewhere else?”

“Why would I be?”

After the vampire left the room, Agron settled down cross-legged on the floor for his daily prayers, censer burning away in front of him. Yet his thoughts kept straying. As he communed with Loralie, Agron kept thinking back on the time when he offered his own blood to the vampire.

It’s not like he’s celibate. He knows how sex works, and he’s not the most inexperienced. But it has been a while since he has been… intimate with another person. And that shock of arousal that travelled through him when Zephan bit down on his neck… it was slightly overwhelming. And pleasurable.

Agron buried his face in his hands. He could practically hear Loralie laughing at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. Next chapter is going to be much heavier and angstier, with a good dose of plot added in. Issue is that it might take longer for me to write, so no promises that I'll be able to update on time. I'll try to make the wait worth it.


	8. about those who have left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where things have been discovered and revelations are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning:** There's a short part which contains non explicit rape, but for those who don't wish to read it, I marked the start and end with a line that looks like this:
> 
> * * *
> 
> Brief summary of that part will be in end notes. Stay safe!
> 
> Unbeta'd but edited. I can't believe I had the energy to full scale edit this. Still tired tho. And takes a long time.

“You shouldn’t follow me this time.”

“Why not?”

Agron paused, hand halfway to the door. “This isn’t… something anyone should witness.”

“What, that kind of I’ll-have-to-kill-you-if-you-know sort of thing?”

The cleric shook his head. “It’s not… favourable. It will get ugly, and I don’t know how you would react to it.”

Zephan smirked. “I’m not a baby, I can handle ugly.”

A furrow of concern appeared between Agron’s eyebrows. “It may not be what you think it is. And there can be no interference.”

“I can control myself.”

Agron’s frown didn’t fade, but he said nothing.

They had been travelling on foot for three days before reaching a city. There were shops and carriages everywhere, cobblestone paths and intersecting roads making up the bustling metropolis. One large canal ran through the entire city, slicing it in half and subdividing it into smaller sections with waterways that pulled away from the main canal.

They were, for some reason, moving through the city on the rooftops sometime past midnight. Agron never said why, and Zephan never bothered to ask. But as they jumped from rooftop to rooftops, questions started to form. Agron had decided to forgo his usual cloak and staff, instead dressed in a strange close-fitting outfit of dark cloth and shoes made of thick fabric, different from the hardy travelling clothes and boots that the cleric always wore. It looked quite similar to the type of garb that assassins would wear when slinking around in the dark.

And he moved through obstacles and alleyways with ease and certainty, showing that this was something that he was used to. Agron’s movements were brief and economical, almost similar to the way he fought, no signs of embellishment or showing off. How many times has he done this before? 

They finally stopped after a while. Agron settled down on a house with a flat roof that was next to one of the waterways, his breath appearing in the dark air as mist.

“Aren’t you cold?”

The cleric shook his head. He placed incense into the ever familiar censer, but did not light it. Zephan sat down next to him.

“What are we waiting for?”

Agron shushed him, and almost seemed to start meditating. Zephan cocked his head to the side, listening.

<hr>

Three blood scents came into range, two male, one female. Zephan strained his ears as Agron lit the incense, holy symbol already clutched in his hands.

It was when the men shoved the woman into the alleyway right next to the building they were on when Zephan finally caught on. The woman was whimpering, fear and terror mixing into her scent as the men followed after, chuckling as the woman backed into a dead end.

Threats were muttered, and the woman made an attempt to escape before one of the men grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into a wall. More muffled whimpers, as clothes were torn and tossed on the ground.

<hr>

“Agron.”

No reply.

“Agron, what the fuck.”

The cleric had a face of neutral impassivity, staring down at the scene below with unreadable eyes as a trail of incense smoke travelled downwards into the alleyway.

“Agron, you bastard, look at me.”

When stormy gray met emerald green, Zephan could feel the sharp points of his fangs poking against his lip. “What the fuck?”

Agron’s expression seemed to darken, and he grabbed the vampire’s arm, as if he could prevent him from leaping off the roof. “Don’t interfere.”

“What do you mean- don’t interfere?!” Zephan sputtered. “Don’t interfere?! She’s- she’s gonna get killed, isn’t she?”

“Yes- and you can’t save her.” Agron hissed. “It’s set in stone. Even if you save her, she’ll die a few days later.”

“She’s- she’s suffering!” Zephan tugged at his arm. The grip felt solid.

“I’m making sure that she doesn’t.” Agron retorted, brandishing the holy symbol in his hands.

Zephan stopped struggling. His gaze bored into the cleric’s eyes. “And what of her pride? Her feelings? Can you erase her shame too?”

Agron looked away. His expression was pained. “No.” His grip tightened on the vampire’s arm. “But interfering with fate has its consequences. Saving her will still lead to her death, and you’ll anger the gods for disrupting the river of fate. I’m already risking too much by letting you see this. Do not save her.”

Zephan glowered at the cleric, and gripped at the arm that was holding onto him. “Let me go.”

Stormy eyes flashed like thunderstorms. “Were you not listening? You cannot-”

“I get it!” the vampire hissed. “Just let me go so I can leave!”

The grip slackened, and there was the rush of wind as Zephan dashed off at an inhumane speed away from the scene. Agron’s heart was racing, and he struggled to keep it down, schooling his features into something more neutral. A pit formed at the bottom of his stomach as he turned back to the alleyway.

This always happens. It always did. He just wished that he’d stop getting his hopes up everytime.

~

Agron didn’t return back to the inn until half an hour later, after the men had left and a Reaper had come to collect the women’s soul (a large, black dog who curled up next to her for a few minutes in comfort). Worry and guilt clouded him as he traveled through the rooftops and slipped into the inn through a window, stopping just right outside their shared room. He reached out to knock on the closed door, before thinking better of it and pushing it open anyway. The vampire had most likely heard him already.

Dim moonlight illuminating a pitch black room greeted him, and a pair of glowing green eyes from the corner of the room flicked at him before turning away. A lump formed in the cleric’s throat as he felt around the room for a candle. The dim glow of the flame barely did anything to illuminate the room, but it was enough for Agron to silently remove his things, oppressive silence smothering the atmosphere between the two men.

Zephan was the first to speak.

“How often did you have to do this?”

Agron’s movements didn’t stop, but there was an obvious stutter for a moment. “More often than I’d like.”

“Have you ever tried...saving them before?”

He paused and straightened up, back towards the vampire. “I have.”

“What happened.”

Agron glanced at Zephan from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what was going to happen from this strange line of questioning. “He died a few days later, and I paid the price for my actions.”

There was the shift of bedclothes behind him. “Does your...god force you to do this?”

“What are you trying to imply?”

They were facing each other now, and there was a shift in darkness when the vampire shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know that a lot of people do a lot of shit in the name of religion. Or get deluded by the lies they are told.”

“Are you insinuating that my god, Loralie Anondynos, is lying to me?”

“No, no. But like, isn’t this almost like grunt work? I don’t know how you clerics work, but since you’re like, Loralie’s champion, one of her most favoured followers, don’t you get a choice in what you do? It hurts you, doesn’t it? Isn’t your god aware of that?”

Agron exhaled, and sifted to sit on his bed. “I am not one of her favoured followers.”

“But didn’t you say before-”

“I am her only follower.”

A pause. Then a breath of incredulous laughter. “What?”

“Think about it. The Goddess of Painless Death. Niche, even for death gods. Many people are afraid of death, let alone about how they die. Why worship a god who only affects their last moments on earth? And those who worship death gods are often more concerned with necromancy and the causes of death, not the comfort of the dead."

“So out of the entire world-”

“-I am her only follower.”

Silence followed.

“Didn’t you try like, spreading the gospel or something?”

Agron snorted. “I have. But the common folk prefer to worship something more ‘useful’, like harvest or fortune gods. The fact that Loralie is a death god is taboo enough.” He looked down. “To answer your previous question. Yes, I have to do this. It is my duty, and no one else is there to do it anyway. And there people are ‘innocent’. They deserve some semblance of comfort in their last moments in this cruel world.”

A pause. “It’s not the most favourable work, and knowing the fate of others is a burden, even if it’s about their last moments. I understand if you want to leave-”

“Hold up. Who said anything about leaving?”

Agron stared. “You’re going to be seeing painful, terrible deaths almost every week. You cannot step in to save them. You have to sit there and watch as they are killed for no rhyme or reason. Who would want to stay? Why would you want to stay? _Why are you even staying with me in the first place?_ ”

The vampire gave the cleric a scrutinizing look. “It’s cause you’re lonely.”

“What? I have my god-”

“How many people left you because of what you do?”

Agron snapped his mouth shut and looked away.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Fists curled in the fabric of the bedsheets before they let go. “No.”

“Then I’m not leaving. What you do is strange and those deaths are fucked up, but I’m not scared or disgusted of you. 'Sides, I have loose morals.”

“That’s not something to boast about.”

“Too bad. I’m boasting. And you’re intriguing and lonely, so I’m sticking to you even if you get sick of me.”

“Why? There’s no purpose-”

“Shh. Let it happen. This is your life now.”

Agron’s look of astonishment turned into a scowl, and pulled away from the smirking vampire who suddenly seemed too close. “Whatever. I’m going to sleep.” He pulled the blankets up around himself. “Do what you want.” And he blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Scene Summary:** Two men cornered a woman into an alleyway and tore off her clothes before the perspective cuts back to Zephan and Agron.
> 
>  **Author Notes:** Finally doneeeeee. In hindsight, I shouldn't have started this fic this year, since it's actually a pretty crucial year for me as a student. Ah well, C'est la vie. (That's my warning to all of you guys. Updates WILL be irregular. You've seen this in the summary at the beginning of this fic. Be smart about it.)
> 
> Sooooo.... *rubs hands* Some backstory hints for our dear darling Agron, don't we? Don't worry about Loralie, she's of good character, and I _might_ make her show up in future chapters. And yes, this isn't the first time where Agron has had a companion in his travels, and this isn't the first time where he's expected people to leave him because of what he does. That's why he didn't protest that much after Zephan started following him. Because he thought that the vampire would leave him one or two weeks later.
> 
> Zephan had a lot to think about in that half an hour after he left the scene lmao. It's a lot to process, even if when you're a vampire. He was a little mad, but to be fair, Agron did warn him beforehand.
> 
> Just to clarify: Agron cannot see into the future, he is just given a place to head towards and a small inkling on how a person is going to die. He doesn't see anything else more than that. Definitely not a D&D spell.
> 
> Btw, btw, did you guys like the description of the city? Great, because as it turrns out, our dear darling protagonists are going to be staying in that place for a bit. This seems like foreshadowing but it's actually not. Please give me feedback on the description (and the chapter in general), cos I kinda pulled that description right out of my ass when writing it.
> 
> The Reaper that collected the woman's soul is based off The Grim from Harry Potter because I'm an original person with original ideas.
> 
> Tags have been changed a little, so check them out if you want to! Hope to see you soon!


	9. deep thoughts. and then one (1) problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thing to note: I've included a new tag above which says "sex pollen". _However_ , there is no sex happening in this chapter, unless you count masturbating as sex. I'm not even sure if I am capable of writing sex at all lolol.
> 
> (Me at 12am, sleep deprived and scribbling at the fourth page: _is this how you write sexual tension????_ )
> 
> Another thing to note: I'm not sure whether this will ever come up in the storyline, so I'm mentioning it now to avoid confusion later on in the chapter. Agron's surname is Anondynos, since he adopted part of Loralie's name some time after he started believing in her. Backstory on that will be mentioned in future chapters, but I'm just saying it now because Zephan refers to Agron with his full name in this chapter, and I want to avoid confusion for you guys :)
> 
> (Also, please don't ask the meaning and how I came up with Loralie's name please. Not because I don't want to, but because I forgot.)
> 
> Unbeta'd and unedited. I don't have the energy for full scale editing anymore.

They had to stay in the city for two weeks.

(“It’s a city. There’s more people here, so more deaths occur, which means more incidents that require my intervention. We’ll have to be here for a while before we can move on.”)

(Zephan honestly didn’t mind. The longer they could stay in a place, the more he could sightsee. And jobs to take up on. His coin was running a little low.)

Nothing much has changed between them. Well, Zephan mused. It  _ is _ right to say that nothing  _ much _ has changed between them, but there seems to have been a slight shift in their dynamic. It feels like Agron’s warming up to him a little more.

He always seemed to just tolerate the vampire before, but after Zephan made that declaration a few nights ago, that little string of tension in him seemed to have slackened. Like as if he was constantly waiting for something to happen, but now, he didn’t have to anymore.

And the other things that were said that night too… Zephan could sense that Agron was lonely when they started travelling together, but he didn’t realise that along with that cloud of loneliness, there was a heavy burden clinging to those shoulders as well. What happens when a god has no believers? If Agron is truly Loralie’s only worshipper, what happens when he dies?

“Are you going to stare at me all day or are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?”

Zephan startled, and realised they had stopped walking, Agron a little ahead of him, slightly turned to face the vampire. Around them, cityfolk swerved to avoid bumping into the two men who had suddenly stopped in the middle of the street. Like two stones fixed at the center of an ever-changing river. Agron’s staff was left behind at the inn again, and his cloak was drawn tighter around himself to ward off the autumn chill. A breeze came by to tousle the dark strands of his hair.

“What happens when a god has no believers?” Ah, crap, that wasn’t supposed to come out.

Agron gave him a knowing look. And then looked away, at the ground, and there was that complex, unreadable face again. Oftentimes, it’s easy to read the emotions that flittled across the cleric’s face, but there are times like this where Zephan realised just how much he doesn’t know about Agron Anondynos.

“A god’s lifesource is the faith that people have in them.” Agron starts, moving forward again, and Zephan speeds up to keep up with him. “The greater the faith and the number of followers, the stronger a god becomes. If a god has no followers, however, they gradually lose their powers and go into a form of stasis.”

“They don’t...die?”

Agron shakes his head. “They don’t, but it might as well be so. They will sleep forever and ever, and will never wake up, unless someone starts to grow faith and believe in them. One follower is enough to awaken a forgotten god.”

_ So if Agron dies, so will his god. _

That thought came to his mind almost immediately. It was sudden, unbidden, and Zephan woefully corrected that  _ if _ to  _ when _ . Because he was reminded that unlike himself, Agron would eventually grow old and die, or perhaps killed on their travels. Then he remembered that battle with the gnolls…

“What’s on your mind now?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Zephan deflected. Agron didn’t seem convinced. “Where are we going to right now? Another death?”

“No. That’s happening the day after tomorrow. We’re going to an apothecary.”

“Oh? For what?”

“To get garlic powder. I hear it wards off vampires.”

“Hah?! I’ll have you know that that’s a myth!”

The tips of Agron’s mouth tilted up a little.

~

The apothecary was in a somewhat remote section of the city, and the shop window, accessible through a side street and surrounded by houses. Bells chimed when they pushed the door open, and Zephan was greeted by the heady scent of drying herbs and medicines.

The interior was dark, since most of the windows had tall shelves pushed up against them, blocking out most of the sunlight that streamed in. Zephan pushed his hat back to see better. Jars of unknown substances lined the shelves in neat rows, and drying herbs hung from the ceiling like some sort of strange decoration. The counter was right next to the door, and a shelf that contained potions was right next to it.

“Do you see any garlic powder around here?” Zephan asked, eliciting a huff of laughter from the sleric. Agron seemed to have already gotten what he needed, and was standing in front of the counter with a few empty glass bottles and a large bag of incense. He rang a small bell on the counter, and there was a “Coming!” from upstairs, followed by hurried footsteps.

The door behind the counter opened, and a robust, middle-aged woman stepped through the door. “Good afternoon, what may I do for you?”

Agron inclined his head in greeting, and pushed the bottles and incense forward. “Do you have any oil for maintaining wooden weapons?”

“We do actually. It’s just right-”

“Auntie, auntie, the order just arrived!” Suddenly, the apothecary shop door burst right open, and a young pigtailed girl came rushing in with a large crate in her hands. But she seemed to have miscalculated her speed, and to everyone’s horror, crashed right into poor, off-guard Agron.

Both of them barreled right into the potions rack right next to the counter, but Agron gripped the edge of the counter just in time to avoid fully crashing into the shelf. There was the sound of glass breaking, and the woman and Zephan were right next to them in an instant.

“Judith! Just because you’re fast doesn’t mean that you have to rush around all the time!” The woman berated, helping her niece (?) off the floor.

“You alright?” Zephan asked, and Agron muttered an affirmative. His hand had a few small cuts from the broken glass on the floor, and his cloak was stained with spilled potions and...some sort of green powder from the crate.

“I’m so sorry!” The young girl exclaimed, bowing deeply. “Ah, you’re injured! Here, let me get some-”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.” Agron interrupted, holding up a hand as he took off his cloak. “This was due for a wash soon anyway.”

“But still, we must apologize.” The shopkeeper added. She lightly smacked the girl upside her head. “My niece is sometimes too boisterous for her own good.” The girls sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. “We’ll give you a discount on your purchases.”

Agron shook his head. “There’s no need for that. It’s just an accident. I do hope that there hasn’t been much wastage of your wares.”

“It’s fine, some of the potions were getting a bit old anyway, and not much was spilt from that crate. About that discount…”

“No, there’s no need-”

“I insist!”

~

They finally managed to leave the shop ten minutes later, sans discount. Zephan’s cheeks were hurting from trying not to laugh out loud, and Agron looked a little disgruntled. At least he got what he needed, but the image of the cleric and the shopkeeper politely deflecting each other’s answers was way too damn hilarious.

“It’s not even that funny.”

“It somehow is! To me!” Zephan sniggered, turning away to avoid the cleric’s glare.    
C’mon, don’t be so mad!”

“I’m not.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say.”

Agron sighed.

The day was veering into late afternoon by the time they got to the street just right outside their inn. Vendors still lined the street right along the river, and Zephan’s attention was drawn to a particular one that displayed all sorts of fossilized flowers. Agront trailed behind him.

“Hey, Agron, you see anything like this before?”

“Hm? They look a little familiar, I suppose.”

The distracted tone on the cleric’s voice raised alarm bells in the vampire’s mind, and he turned to look at the cleric proper. He  _ did _ seema little distracted, and his eyes had that hazy, unfocused look to it.

“Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just feeling a little hot, that’s all.” His cloak was still draped over his arm, and Agron pulled at his collar a little. Zephan noticed a slight flush on his cheeks.

“But it’s autumn, and you’re not wearing your cloak.”

Agron gave a troubled look. “Maybe I’m coming down with something. Which is strange, since…” He trailed off, and his mind seemed to drift somewhere.

“Agron? You alright there?”

“Hm? I’m fine.” The cleric seemed to shake himself awake for a bit. “I’ll head back first. Maybe it’s nothing, but I can just sleep it off.”

“You sure?” This all seemed like some very un-Agron-like behaviour.

“Yes. It’s a short distance away anyway.” He turned and walked off, and Zephan stared after him worriedly. His heartbeat sounded a little fast...Should he go after him? But that might seem rather overbearing. Best not to worry too much about it.

And then he bumped into the young girl at the apothecary a few minutes later.

“My apologies sir- Ah! You’re that strawhat guy who was with that gloomy guy earlier!”

_ Gloomy guy? Surprisingly fitting. _ What’s wrong?

“The thing is, it’s about your friend…”

~

Zephan slipped into an alleyway, cursing the fact that the city was still teeming with people, preventing him from dashing through the streets with his vampiric speed. He glanced around him and scaled up the wall of the inn before slipping into their room through the window Agron used that night.

_ “Relaxation potions?” _

_ “You’ll be surprised by the number of overworked people in this city, mister.” _

_ “But that’s still pretty okay. If anything, I think my friend needs a little relaxation potion every now and then.” _

_ “That’s not the main issue, mister. It’s the stuff that was mixed with it. The herbs in the crate I was carrying.” _

_ “What about it?” _

_ “Well, you see-” The girl fidgeted a bit. “It’s a special kind of exotic herb that we use in salves that help men with their...when they’re in bed.” _

_ “What do you mean- oh, you mean when they can’t get their dicks up?” _

_ The girl was fully blushing now. “Yeah, it’s pretty harmless on it’s own,when we crashed, it mixes with a compound in the relaxation potion, and uh, kinda forms an...aphrodisiac.” _

Agron was sitting on his bed, vest thrown haphazardly on the floor and shirt halfway taken off, his exposed back facing the window. His feet were bare and his face half-turned to see the vampire who just entered the room. His pupils were blown wide and his heartbeat was racing, an obvious flush on his cheeks that travelled down his pale neck and shoulders. The scent of his arousal was strong, and Zephan gulped.

Agron hastily shoved his shirt back on, and shifted to the corner of his bed shame evident on his features. “I-I think there was something that was spilled on me at the apothecary.” His hands were shaking.

Zephan nodded jerkily. “Yeah. One of them told me.”

“They know? Do they have a cure?”

He shook his head this time. “They’ve had similar accidents before. Best thing you can do is to ride it out, and prevent your temperature from rising too high. And. Uh. Skin-on-skin contact works best. Tricks the mind into thinking that you’re. Fucking.”

Silence hung heavy in the air. Agron shifted. Zephan tried not to notice that the cleric had a hard-on.

“If you don’t mind-”

“I can leave-”

They both started talking at once, and stared at each other in surprise. Zephan coughed. The tension was palpable.

“You-uh, you can go first.”

Agron seemed to curl up even smaller. His hands were still trembling, and the flush had travelled down to his chest. “If you don’t mind...could you help me with that…” He fisted his hands. “...with that skin contact?”

Zephan inhaled sharply - bad idea, can still smell the arousal - and exhaled. “Uh. Sure. Yeah. Um.”

Agron didn’t seem to want to wait anymore, and peeled his shirt off. At least he wanted to keep his trousers on. Zephan’s brain got into gear and started to awkwardly strip down as well.

“How do you uh, wanna do this?”  _ Get a grip, Zephan, you’re just gonna help him out, that’s all. _

Agron fidgeted a little, before lying down with his back facing the vampire Zephan stiffly slotted himself against the cleric, a little hesitant before mentally saying  _ fuck it _ and pulling himself flush against the man, arms wrapping around the cleric’s flushed chest. The effect was almost instantaneous, as Agron seemed to almost melt against the contact, a small breathy sigh coming out of him as he closed his eyes.

This method seemed to work for a while, the vampire’s unnaturally chilly skin easing off the cleric’s rising temperature. Only for a while. Not before long, Agron started to fidget.

“Hey, what’s wrong-  _ woah, okay- _ ”

Zephan looked away as the cleric reached down and started to jerk himself off, almost uncaring of the fact that there was another person behind him who could see  _ everything _ . His breath came out in small pants, and Zephan could hear  _ and _ smell the precome that was gathering on the man’s dick. Agron’s free hand somehow found Zephan’s and gripped on it, almost like some sort of anchor.

His breaths were coming faster, and his movements a little jerkier before the cleric suddenly shuddered and stilled, head tilted back and a groan escaped through his clenched teeth. He held there for a moment, the scent of sweat and cum mixing with the scent of arousal, and then relaxed against the vampire, still panting, but less frantic and tense.

Zephan’s brain is running in circles at this sudden development. Agron shifted and his head dropped until his chin touched his chest. Zephan tried to ignore the flushed expanse of his nape.

_ Play it cool, c’mon. _ “Think that’s the last of it?”

A pause. Agron gave a small shake of his head. Of course not. He can still smell the effects of the damn aphrodisiac in the cleric’s system.

“Tell me if you need help, okay?”

Another pause. And then a very small, relieved: “Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oOf. I'm a bit iffy about the stuff in this chapter, since it's sorta my first time writing these set of things. I hope this works for you guys.
> 
> The apothecary does have a few incidents of accidentally creating aphrodisiacs, since some of their more popular wares are relaxation potions and erectile dysfunction salves. Ehehehehe. They are working on creating a cure, but the affects don't always last that long, so it's hard to do a proper testing, especially since the ones who fall victim to the substance are embarrassed and don't want to stick around for long.
> 
> There is a bit of difference between what Agron has been affected with and your typical sex pollen. It causes great arousal, but one can ride it out without having to bring themselves off. Just requires a bit of self-control. It's just that our poor cleric is so pent up from years of lonely abstinence that he got more frustrated than your typical person (Tee hee). He's still pretty lucid, and the substance doesn't lower his inhibitions. He just doesn't care as much when he has a boner and there's a hot vamp cuddling him.
> 
> About the idea behind the faith for god's: I have to admit, majority of it is adopted from Mo Xiang Tong Xiu's amazing novel, Heaven Official's Blessing (TGCF for short). It's a Chinese BL novel, and I recommend that you guys check it out, especially her other novels such as Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) and The Scum Villian's Self-Saving System. There's translations for all those novels, so I hope that you guys check it out! It's enough to make you laugh till you cry and cry till you die. The angst is good. And the comedy is good. And I cry because my Chinese will never be good enough to read the novels in their original language.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and hope to see you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [ a friend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myth_Ouroboros) for enabling this bs.
> 
> Updates **will be** irregular.


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